never going to happen, but concentrate on being a good partner. To give Matteo affection in quiet and unobtrusive ways, so that maybe the hard ice around his heart might melt a little and let her in.
He was doing his best to change, she knew that. In the busy days which followed their return from his Roman villa, he had meticulously paid his son all the attention which had been lacking before. Sometimes he would go to Santino if he woke in the night—silencing Keira’s sleepy protests with a kiss. Occasionally, he gave the baby a bottle and, once, had even changed his nappy, even though he’d protested that this was one task surely better undertaken by women.
But as Keira had watched him perform these fatherly duties she had been unable to blind herself to the truth. That it was simply a performance and Matteo was just going through the motions. He was being a good father, just as he was a good lover—because he was a man who excelled in whatever he did. But it was duty which motivated him. His heart wasn’t in it, that much was obvious. And as long as she accepted that, then she’d be fine.
She turned away from the mirror, wondering if there was anything she’d forgotten to do. Matteo’s father, Massimo, and his wife, Luciana, had arrived only a short while ago because the traffic from Rome had been bad. Since they were due at the town hall at noon, there had been little opportunity for Keira to exchange more than a few words of greeting and introduce them to their new grandson. She’d been nervous—of course she had—she suspected it was always nerve-racking meeting prospective in-laws, and most people didn’t have to do it on the morning of the wedding itself.
Massimo was a bear of a man, his build bulkier than Matteo’s, though Keira could see a likeness around the jet-dark eyes. Her prospective stepmother-in-law, Luciana, was an elegant woman in her fifties, who had clearly embraced everything facial surgery had to offer, which had resulted in a disturbingly youthful appearance.
Keira picked up her clutch bag and went downstairs, her heart pounding with an anxiety which seemed to be increasing by the second. Was that because she’d seen Luciana’s unmistakable look of disbelief when they’d been introduced? Was she wondering how this little Englishwoman from nowhere had wrested a proposal of marriage from the Italian tycoon?
But the expression on Matteo’s face made Keira’s stomach melt as she walked into the hallway, where everyone was waiting. She saw his eyes darken and the edges of his lips curve into an unmistakable smile of appreciation as he took her cold hand in his and kissed it.
‘Sei bella, mia cara,’ he had murmured softly. ‘Molta bella.’
Keira told herself he was only saying it because such praise was expected of the prospective groom, but she couldn’t deny the feeling of satisfaction which rippled down her spine in response. Because she wanted him to look at her and find her beautiful, of course she did. She wasn’t stupid and knew she couldn’t take his desire for granted. Someone like her was always going to have to work to maintain it. Leola the stylist had been dispatched from Rome with a selection of wedding outfits and Keira had chosen the one she felt was the most flattering but also the most appropriate. Steadfastly pushing away the more floaty white concoctions, she had opted for functional rather than fairy tale. The silvery-grey material of the dress and jacket reminded her of a frosty winter morning but there was no doubt that it suited her dark hair and colouring. Only the turquoise shoes and matching clutch bag provided a splash of colour—because she had refused all Leola’s inducements to carry flowers.
At least Massimo Valenti seemed enchanted by his grandson. Keira travelled in one of the cars with him to the nearly town and watched as he spent the entire journey cooing at the baby in delight. It made her wonder why he hadn’t been close to his own son—but there was no time for questions because they were drawing up outside the town hall where Matteo was waiting to introduce her to the interpreter, which Italian law demanded.
Twenty minutes later she emerged from the building as a married woman and Matteo was pulling her into his arms, his hands resting on either side of her waist—but even that light touch was enough to make her want to dissolve with lust and longing.
‘So. How does it feel to be Signora Valenti?’ he questioned silkily.
Her heart was pounding as she stared up into the molten darkness of his eyes. ‘Ask me again next week,’ she said breathlessly. ‘It feels a little unreal right now.’
‘Maybe this will help you accept the reality,’ he said, ‘mia sposa.’
And there, beneath the fluttering Italian flag of the town hall, his lips came down to claim hers with a kiss which left her in no doubt that he would rather they were somewhere private, preferably naked and horizontal. It set off an answering hunger and reminded Keira of the slightly incredible fact that he couldn’t seem to get enough of her. Didn’t he demonstrate that every night when he covered her trembling body with his own? And wasn’t that enough? she wondered as they drove back to the farmhouse together, her golden ring glinting as she fussed around with Santino’s delicate shawl. Was it just her inherently cautious nature which made her wonder if her relationship with Matteo was as superficial as the icing sugar sprinkled over the top of the chocolate wedding cake which Paola had baked?
Yet when he carried her over the threshold, it felt real. And when she returned from putting Santino down for a nap, having removed the silvery-grey jacket to reveal the filmy chiffon dress beneath, Matteo had been waiting in the shadowed hallway for her.
Pulling her into a quiet alcove, he placed his palm over her hammering heart and she licked her lips as her nipple automatically hardened beneath his touch.
‘Ever wish you could just wave a magic wand and make everyone disappear?’ he drawled.
She shivered as the light stroking of her nipple increased. ‘Isn’t that a little...anti-social?’
‘I’m feeling anti-social,’ he grumbled, his lips brushing over the curve of her jaw before moving upwards to tease her now trembling lips. ‘I want to be alone with my new wife.’
Keira kissed him back as his words set off another whisper of hope inside her and she wondered if it was wrong to allow herself to hope, on this, her wedding day.
‘You were the man who once told me about the benefits of waiting,’ she teased him. ‘Won’t this allow you to test out your theory?’
Matteo laughed as she pulled away from him, the prim twitch of her lips contradicting the hunger in her eyes, and he shook his head slightly, wondering what kind of spell she had cast over him. He was used to the wiles of women yet Keira used none of them. She wasn’t deliberately provocative around him and didn’t possess that air of vanity of someone who revelled in her sexual power over a man. On the contrary, in public she was almost demure—while in private she was red-hot. And that pleased him, too. She pleased him and unsettled him in equal measure. She left him wanting more—but more of what, he didn’t know. She was like a drink you took when your throat was dry yet when you’d finished it, you found that your thirst was just as intense.
He stroked his fingers down over her belly, his gaze steady as they stood hidden by the shadows of the staircase. Hard to believe that a child had grown beneath its almost-flat curve. ‘I want you to know you are an amazing mother,’ he said suddenly. ‘And that Santino is blessed indeed.’
He saw the surprise behind the sudden brightness in her eyes, her mouth working as she struggled to contain herself.
‘Don’t make me get all emotional, Matteo,’ she whispered. ‘I’ve got to go in there and make conversation with your father and stepmother and I’m not going to make a very good impression if I’ve been blubbing.’
